


Struck Down

by RainTeaandDragons



Category: Midsomer Murders
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Survivor Guilt (of sorts), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainTeaandDragons/pseuds/RainTeaandDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A split second decision can change everything.<br/>That could be for the good - but it can be for the bad.<br/>For Ben Jones however, it was both, and his life would never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the episode Night of the Stag in series 14, I put a bit of a spin on the ending and went from there. So here's the prologue and I hope you enjoy :) This is my first Midsomer Murders fan fic so any feedback would be greatly appreciated :)  
> ~Fran x

The villager had two seconds thought for which ‘copper’ to tackle first, the slighter of the two looked an easier target.  So it was him he went for first, elbowing him in the stomach, and making him stumble back into the grass, with a groan.

“Jones!” Barnaby yelled as his Sergeant stumbled back, he felt himself shoved away as well but he managed to keep his balance. Now separated from Quested he tried to regain control of the situation. That was however until someone fired a hand gun into the air.

Silence fell over the group.

Ben managed to stand, and moving closer to Barnaby, they looked around for the source of the shot.

An old man stepped forward reloading the shotgun, “you gonna kill a copper now are we boy?” You think that’s the right thing to do?”

“MURDERER!” a young girl strode forward but her mother held her back.

“Quiet there girl…”Quested began but the old man cut him off.

“Leave her Quested or I’ll shoot you down like the mad dog you are,” the old man pointed the gun at the man in handcuffs.

“Go on then old men,” Quested sneered, “have a bang…”

Then all of a sudden, ‘Smudgee’ wrestled the gun off the old man, and pointed it, loaded, at Barnaby. Also at the same time two men grabbed Jones from behind and held him still. “Go on then ‘Smudgee’ finish him off…” someone yelled.

“No.” Jones growled in response but got an elbow in the ribs for his trouble, he looked back up at Barnaby with a grimace, wondering how the hell they were going to get out of this one.

“Have you got anything to say before I pop you, copper?”

With one eye on the gun, Barnaby looked up at its wielder, then to Jones and back to the gun, he was about to say something when the gunman heard the sound of the police car in the distance, and that was when the tension changed.

In what seemed to be one second, half the village fled; Jones managed to fight himself free of his captors and as Quested barreled into the gunman, making him shoot the gut; moments before Jones had seemed to realise what was going to happened and  shoved Barnaby out of the way.

“Jones, no!” The DCI yelled as he stumbled sideways, watching as Jones fell back onto the cold grass, his head hitting a jutted out rock. With a growl of anger Barnaby tugged the gun from ‘Smudgees’ hands and unloaded it, before chucking each part a separate way.

he police finally got there and he set them to round up the men and hand-cuff them, “and we need medical help here. NOW!” he repeated forcefully, before kneeling down by Jones who was attempting to sit up but failing miserably. His face was set in a pained grimace, with his hand clutching at the deep wound at his side.

“I’m sorry sir,” he mumbled out through the pain flaring out through his body, “I messed up. Big time.”

“What…really Jones? You did fine; you saved my life, thank you. You are going to be fine,” he kept a hand on the younger mans shoulder, “help’s coming, there’s an ambulance on the way, stay with me,” he squeezed his shoulder, “Jones! Stay with me!”

“You’re fine, yeah?”

“Yes I am fine Jones,” he said with a hint of frustration, _typical, worrying about me before himself,_ “and you will be as well! Stay with me!”

Ben’s eyes began to slip closed, “Jones…Jones!” Barnaby raised his voice, “don’t you dare! Jones! Ben?”

There was no response.

~

“You know Jones, sometimes you really can be quite, errm, slow,” Barnaby frowned, “then at others you tend to surprise me.” Barnaby sat at Jones’s hospital bed, where the young Sergeant lay, in a coma of sorts. “You pushing me out of the way of the gut shot, you saw that didn’t you?” his face twitched slightly, “you realized what was going to happen and you took action?”

The silence was unusual for Jones, and even more unsettling for Barnaby, who only half knew why he was there, sitting by the young man’s bed.

_John sat at the end of his bed, he was leaning forward on his knees, hands clenched, eyes closed. The image of Ben Jones falling back onto the grass, bullet in his side, head wound bleeding profusely, constantly playing in his head. Guilt. Honest and true, it was guilt. The problem was though, that John Barnaby didn’t usually get phased by this sort of thing, and he knew for a fact that Jones wasn’t dead – thank god, but that didn’t get rid of the fact that it should have been him not Jones, in that hospital bed. Barnaby knew where his sergeant was, but hadn’t gone to visit him. He didn’t want to see what his carelessness had done to the younger man._

_“John,” Sarah walked in with a hot mug of tea which she handed to her husband, he took it from gratefully but didn’t take a sip. She sat next to him, putting a reassuring hand on his leg, “why don’t you go see him? I know for a fact that it would make you feel better, talk to him.”_

_“You know, Sarah, talking like that to a coma patient, one could be seen as strange.” he replied, still not looking up from his tea._

_“I disagree,” she smiled slightly, “in this case, you’re feeling guilt, for nothing more than the fact that Ben made a decision that got himself injured, so really you have nothing to feel guilt about. Hmm?” she placed a kiss on his cheek, “you need to let it go John. This, none of it is your fault, and I am sure Ben would say the same.”_

_John looked up, it looked like he was battling with himself, “I could have talked them out of it.”_

_“A mad man with a gun pointed at your chest? I believe you could, but they didn’t give you the chance did they?”_

_John nodded, letting a hand drop t o stroke Sykes who had started to whine, staring up at them both with sad eyes. “I’ll go see him now.”_

So there he sat, the constant beeping of the monitor, telling him Jones was still breathing. The young man looked so still, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, with very little colour left on his face. “You know Jones, when you wake up, I have a feeling you’re not going to be the same, I just worry about how much you’ll have changed,” Barnaby swallowed and stood, but before he left he put a hand on Jones’ unmoving arm, “that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to wake up.”

He got to the door but something made him turn back, “so you better follow those orders Jones – wake up.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A split second decision can change everything.  
> That could be for the good - but it can be for the bad.  
> For Ben Jones however, it was both, and his life would never be the same again.

John Barnaby pushed open the door to the office, followed with saddened and in some cases, sympathetic glances. He tried in vain to ignore it, but as he sat at his desk and looked up to where Jones should have been sitting, he was left, with a sort of empty feeling, that in truth, he couldn’t seem to shake off. It had been about a week since Ben Jones had been shot, and his boss, though Barnaby had insisted otherwise – on the grounds that work would keep his mind on other things, had not let him come back into work until then. So reluctantly, Barnaby had spent a week pacing the house, and walking Sykes; until Sarah had insisted he go and visit poor Jones.

The shrill ring of the phone cut the silence just as he sat down, “Barnaby,” he answered, “yes,” there was a few moments pause before he spoke again, “I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone, “they’ve found a body over at Badgers Drift Jones, come o…” he stopped talking, realizing what he had done, with a nervous sniff Barnaby then stood and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. He left the room without another word.

~

“Simon Grey, 27 years old, his necks broken but we have yet to discover how, and whether it caused his death,” Dr Wilding looked up at her boss with a slight frown, “you know Sir, the guy who ran the garage in the town.”

“No,” Barnaby creased his eyebrows, “I don’t,” here he’d usually turn to Jones, the encyclopedia of local knowledge, “these look like tire tracks,” he said indicating the muddied ruts on the paddock side of the path, “a hit and run?” _and in that case, thankfully not a murder,_ he thought

“I would say yes,” she replied, “but he had his phone on in his hand.”

“So he was meeting someone,” Barnaby thought aloud, “and they definitely did meet, or somebody did anyway. Has someone bagged the phone? And also who was it that found the body?”

“The phone should tell us that, and it was those two over there, they were walking into town when they found him.”

“Thank you,” Barnaby turned, _you, are going to need another junior, or at least someone else working the case with you who knows what they’re doing,_ he thought to himself as he went to question the young couple standing by the police cars.

~

“Please Tom, It’s just for one case, I’ve talked to the boss and he’s said it is all fine.” John said into the phone, he waited for a moment listening to his cousin’s response, “it’s hard to say over the phone…but if you come down to Causton, then…”there was a moment’s silence on the other end of the line before John heard what he wanted to hear, “thank you Tom, I’ll see you this afternoon at my place.” A satisfied look flooded Barnaby’s face as he hung up the phone, _now I, need to go and see Jones again._

~

“This case, Jones, as far as I can see, is very straight forward, but a little of your local knowledge wouldn’t go amiss.”He sighed, looking round the clean white walls of the hospital room, “so I have invited Tom, Tom Barnaby your old DCI back to help with the case,” John chuckled, “maybe he’ll get you to wake.” Silence filled the room, occasionally broken by the beeping of the monitor; then a familiar voice rang through the room, making John jump. John turned to face the door in surprise, “Tom!” he said as he stood to greet his cousin, “you’re here early.”

“I went over to the station first to say hello, thought Jones might be there.”

“Ahh,” John grimaced slightly.

“They directed me here,” he walked over to stand on the other side of the bed, “so then, what happed to our Sergeant?” he gave John a look, his piercing blue eyes giving his cousin a once over, to find the man looked like he needed sleep, and a lot of it.

Feeling Tom’s gaze on him, John looked up before starting to explain what had happened just over a week before. “…and he pushed me out of the way just as, ‘Smudgie’ as they called him, took the shot. Jones’ head hit a jutting out rock in the grass; he was out within minutes and hasn’t woken up since.”

Tom didn’t know what to say, he glanced down at Jones’ still body, “how long has he been under?”

“Just over a week now,” he frowned, “the doctors say it is the bang on the head keeping him out, the gut shot wound went straight through, missing everything vital.”

“So he was _very_ lucky,” _thank goodness,_ he thought before speaking again, “so do you want to explain to me why, you need my help.”

“Of course, coffee?” John asked

“Love one.” Tom replied with a small smile before sending a worried glance in Jones’ direction.

About an hour later the two cousins were sitting in a pub near the hospital, talking about the case when John got a phone call from the hospital, (he had put his name down as ‘next of kin’ as Ben had never spoken of any family that he was close with, and to be honest the Barnaby’s had sort of adopted him as part of the family.) “He’s what?” he exclaimed, a grin crossing his face, before it faded again when he spoke, “we’ll be right over,” he hung up the phone.

“It’s Jones isn’t it?” Tom asked quickly, not waiting for an answer before standing up.

John followed suit, “they lost him for a moment, soon after we had left.” he grimaced, “but thankfully he’s fine now.”

“Fine! How can he be fine if he nearly died?” there was a look of slight panic in Toms eyes, a look that had only been used a few times in his life.

“Tom, he’s awake.”

“Oh, thank god, we better be off then.” Tom led the way out of the pup and opened the driver’s side to the car. Within ten minutes, after a rather tense drive, they were at the hospital again. They followed the path from the car park at a brisk walk, avoiding other people going the other direction, until finally they reached the door of Jones’ room. John got their first, and pushed the door open to see Ben Jones’ sitting up in the bed, looking a little dazed, but very much alive.

“Hello Ben,” John began, once Tom had entered the room and shut the door behind them.

“Hello…” Ben started, looking confused, his eyes moving from one man to the other, “what happened?”

The two elder men exchanged glances, _was it a good idea to say anything so soon,_ a look from Tom told him all he needed, “there was a bit of an accident while wrapping up a case. Ben, you got shot.”

“What? What case?” Ben looked panicked, “shot!?”

“Ben,” Tom began calmly, “you’re a detective, a police officer. That’s why…” he tried to carry on but Ben talked over him.

“Who are you?” he asked both the men who were standing in his hospital room, looking dead worried, his eyes moved frantically between the two others  in the room, “who the hell are you?”

 


	3. Chapter 2

There was a moment of dead silence. Both Barnaby’s stood there in shock. “Well…who the hell are you? How do you know me?” Ben asked again, he was looking panicked now, and that was when Tom hit the button for the nurse.

“Someone will be here in a moment to explain everything to you,” Tom said with a sad look in his eyes, “we probably aren’t the best at doing so.” He lied blindly just as the nurse walked back in; thankfully that was when John’s phone rang.

He had a muttered conversation on the phone, as the nurse worked to calm Ben down, “I am so sorry but we have to go, that was Kate, she has some useful information about the case, so we have to get back to the station.”

Tom nodded, “we’ll be back,” he said to the nurse before following his cousin out of the room, sparing a worried glance back at Ben as he left.

~

“So the body was run over twice?” Tom confirmed, giving Kate an inquisitive stare.

“Yes,” she creased her eyebrows, “they hit him, then to make sure they were dead, they reversed over him then drove off. See the patterning in the skin? Consistent with tire tracks of one car, but they’re repeated.”

“I see,” Tom muttered, “so definitely not a murder. Is there anything else?”

“Not of yet, but there was a piece of a number plate lodged into the victim’s leg. It’s being analysed now, there might be something we can find there.”

“Not a nice way to go, not nice at all,” John muttered, “do you think he was killed instantly?”

“No, his legs would have been broken on impact with the car but he wouldn’t have died until the car reversed back over him.”

“Okay, thank you Kate, we’re going to head over to talk to the family.” With a solemn smile the two men left the room and headed back up the stairs to the car park.

The drive was quiet, both men not sure what to say, with only one thing they needed to talk about, there was very little they could seem to say. That was until John spoke up, “I tried to stop him, but they had a tight hold of him and I think when he broke free, he had felt so helpless before that there was only one thing on his mind.”

“It’s not your fault John, I am sure Sarah has said the same, and I know that Ben, if he was thinking straight that is, wouldn’t blame you one bit.”

They both dissolved into silence once again.

Minutes later they arrived at the small, ivy covered brick cottage where Simon Grey had lived with his wife. John rolled the car to a solid stop in the gravel driveway; they got out, shutting the doors in unison with a solid clunk. Seconds later Tom was rapping his knuckles on the wooden front door of the cottage.

“One second!”

They heard a sound of a strong welsh accent coming from in the house, then the cry of a small child, the door then swung open to reveal a short woman with frizzy red hair, large hazel eyes and a pale rounded face.

“Afternoon,” John began, “I’m DCI John Barnaby, and this is my colleague Tom Barnaby, we’re looking for the wife of Simon Grey.”

“That’s me…” she trailed off, looking worried, “…call me Linda.”

“May we come in?” Tom asked

“Wha…what’s happened?”

“It’s probably better if we told you inside,” John said with a sad smile.

“Alright,” she said uncertainly, “follow me.” She led them into the lounge, indicating the comfy looking sofa for the two men to sit on. She then perched on the edge of the other her fingers clenched together on her knees; she looked worriedly up the men opposite her.

“I am really sorry to have to bring you this news,” John began, “but your husband was found in the early hours of this morning, he had been hit by a car, and had died.”

“No!” Linda gasped, “You’re wrong, you have to be!”

“I am sorry, but it is true.” Tom replied sadly

“What am I going to tell Ben?” She said almost to herself, Linda put her hands to her mouth, blinking her eyes and letting tears fall down her cheeks.

“Ben?” both men asked in unison.

“Our son, how do I tell him his father’s gone?” she drew in a deep breath, “I s’pose you’ll need to ask me a few questions?”

“If you’re up to it, that is…” John replied, and waited for a nod in reply before carrying on, “Linda, your husband, do you know where he was last night?”

“Not entirely,” she sniffed, “he usually stays in with me on weeknights, but he said he had to meet someone. To talk about work I think…”

“Did he say where he would meet them? Or who it was?” Tom quizzed.

“No, I’m sorry,” she looked up from her knees, “though there was something that was a bit odd.”

“What was that?” John pounced at the change of routine.

“He walked to meet them, he usually drives but he does…he does walk to work…” she sniffed again.

“Hmm, interesting, would you mind telling me where that is please?” John asked.

“At the garage, down the road called _McGee’s_. Is there anything else?” Linda added

“Just one thing, is there anyone who would have wanted to harm Peter?” John queried.

“As far as I know…no, there isn’t.” She looked up sadly, “if you don’t mind, I have a few things I need to do.”

“Of course,” Tom said, “we’ll let ourselves out.”

“We are so sorry about what has happened.” John gave a respectful nod as he followed his cousin from the room.

The drive, again, was quiet, that was until Tom spoke up, “I think we should go visit Ben again tomorrow, see how he is and if we can jog his memory a little.”

John waited for a moment before answering. “Yes , that is a good idea, we’ll go tomorrow after we have talked to Peter’s colleagues.” _I hope he doesn’t lose it again. It’s not like him, not like him at all._

 


End file.
